They all want to crush you, I think, the weight is just too heavy for them so they look to you to carry it, knowing you can't, knowing they shouldn't put that on you; it's not yours.
So you sink a bit with each breath and wonder the weight for love? The caving in of your chest for your heart pounding compliance? Pressuring you now or never or alone. Are those the choices? Another option maybe that isn't so much that it squeezes the soul you have into a flat kind of mat meant for forgetting except when their feet are really really dirty, gritty, charred.
Lucky for me that I have some kind of resilience; lucky for them as well. Lucky to see that there is always an up. But what is this, right here dead center? It is pulling all my pieces tight together from my teeth to my toes, a curling in as if in escape? My eyes tighten and shut a bit but it just squeezes a bit of wet, a remembrance that I should probably cry. Sucking parts in further, so compact, so thin, now a tiny ball of thread, expertly wound, with care and consideration for the need for me later, when something needs mending, but not care enough to create.
An undoing now, scraps spread wide and ready across the moments that led us here. Coming together, falling apart, ebb and flow of the saline wash of surrender, letting go and giving in to the idea of never giving in again. Floating motionless, weightless, surrounded but absolutely alone.
Full formed infallible, untouchable and underestimated, walking through this place again but it is completely new, and it is finally time for this to begin.